


Imagine: Castiel shows you that when it comes to angels, there’s no comparing a snow angel to the real deal.

by webcricket



Series: Castiel Imagines [67]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Fluff, Snow, Snow Angels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28207599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/You
Series: Castiel Imagines [67]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/916281
Comments: 1
Kudos: 19





	Imagine: Castiel shows you that when it comes to angels, there’s no comparing a snow angel to the real deal.

At the crested drift of snow atop the hill, where the colorless velveteen sky salts the earth with an endless swirl of snowflake kisses, your frolicking figure drops from Castiel’s view as if swallowed up by the whirlwind white void.

He knows there is no danger here, and yet so conditioned to fret for your safety, so trained to a state of worry and woe by years of struggle, for a moment that familiar vice of fear grips tight his chest and your name circles uncalled around the knot of nerves amassing in his throat; his celestial heart tests his vessel to it’s bounding brink, the bass drum of adrenaline deafening his ears soothed only by the quickly rising sound of your laughter thrilling the otherwise hushed calm of wintery air with joyful life.

“Cas, c’mere!” You call out from where you lie on your back, buried in a knee deep drift, splayed arms and legs impressing an angelically winged outline into the snow.

The crunch of his boots and soft swish of his trench coat brushing the blanket of white as he mounts the hill to meet you mingles with the enthusiastic waving of your limbs.

When his blue gaze appears above you - somehow ever warm when fixed on you despite the natural coolness of the color - scrunched into a squint conveying curiosity and concern, you cease your movement; a smile parts your lips slowly, stretching all the way to the pink blossoms of chilly wind blown cheeks.

That smile melts any trace of icy anxiety afflicting him and mirrors itself involuntarily into his own expression. “What are you doing?”

“Making a snow angel. What do you think? Is it a good likeness of your true form?” You prop up on one elbow and toss your chin at the silhouette surrounding you knowing full well the cartoonish cookie cutter proportions look nothing like an actual angel.

Amusement slants his smile sideways as he examines your work. “Not at all. For one, the wingspan is entirely wrong. Not to mention, um-” his serious minded critique falters upon noticing the pout forming on your features- “I was supposed to say something more supportive, wasn’t I?”

“Yes. Yes you were.” You nod, your hair starting to saturate and stick to your forehead in a halo of dissolving snow. You hold faith that someday he’ll get the whole innocent white lie thing right, and even if he never does figure out this finer nuance of humanity’s interactional habits in intimate relationships, a little revenge is always fun to make him pay for the error of his literal heavenly ways; and besides that, you’re freezing and could use a bit of heating up at his expense.

“Sorry.” Smile sheepish, he shrugs and offers a hand to help you to your feet.

You drag your lower lip between your teeth - a tell he should realize says what comes next is a ruse - and feign acceptance of his chivalrous aid; reaching up, gloved fingers caked in snow filter into the gaps of his strong grasp. Rather than let him lift you, you yank him unceremoniously into a wide-eyed heap of startled seraph and puddled trench coat beside you and roll sideways to straddle his hips.

“Now-” Tongue flicking as you speak to wet your mirthful lips, you rock your weight between your knees and flatten a palm to his shoulder to forestall any thoughts he might have about escape. Leaning forward your misty breath ghosts the welcome warmth of his mouth- “looks like I’ve landed myself a real snow covered angel for comparison.”

Left eyebrow arching - a sign you should know by now means he’s about to exceed your expectations and surprise _you_ \- seemingly imperious to the temptation of your teasing kiss, he calmly notes, “Looks like you do.”

As he utters this agreement, the periphery of your vision darkens - blinding white shifts to black of night; shimmering snow-flecked plumes shroud your tangled forms and envelop you in a cushion of warmth impervious to the frigid elements. Feathers and fingers both tickle at your spine, pushing and pulling you in to close the kiss.


End file.
